Shifting Gears
by Renegade Ace
Summary: Her father always said that you could learn a lot about a person when they drove. In San Francisco, while Darcy drives Lizzie home, she learns that sometimes it takes time to be ready for certain things: like love and learning to drive a standard. And some times, it takes the right person to teach you how to do both. LBD universe one-shot, set before episode 83.


Disclaimer: Not mine.

Author's Note: This is a little piece of fluff inspired by a lot of other fics that I've been reading when it comes to Darcy driving and San Fransisco's hills. This takes place before Ep. 83.

Please R&R. It's what Jane Austen would want you to do.

Shifting Gears

Lizzie had learned how to drive from her father when she turned 16. While her mother could also drive it just seemed natural that her father undertook teaching her. It had always been their 'thing'.

She has faded memories – like old photographs – of sitting beside him in the car he had when she was child (a classic car with manual transmission and no air conditioner) smiling broadly as they drove with the windows wide open, old tunes coming from the outdated 8-track player and him letting her shift gears in the old engine.

When it came her turn to learn, he didn't have that car anymore. They only had an automatic and that was all she really knew to drive. But she remembered the precision and concentration that came with that old manual engine. She remembered the beauty of listening to the gears shifting fluidly without hesitation or stalling. There was something artistic to driving like that, something she never understood until much, much later.

As a kid all that she really cared about was the happiness and calm she felt sitting beside her father as he drove with her, the rest of the family forgotten as he allowed her to steer and shift gears on the way to the store to pick up milk or a video. That kind of car – that kind of transmission – was always a reminder of happier times. It was a reminder of her and her dad.

When she bought her own car - an old beater that had too many owners and miles with not enough love along the way - she had wanted a manual transmission. She had wanted that reminder every time she drove.

Dutifully, her father borrowed a manual from a friend and tried to teach her to drive it before she went out and bought her own. And suddenly it wasn't the art form she had remembered it to be. She stalled starting and stopping, she forgot that weird trick when she had to park, she always gave too much or not enough to the clutch and hills were something to be avoided at all costs. While she knew she would have mastered it in time, she figured that she would have to get a new, costly, transmission before she stopped striping the gears - and besides, weren't automatics now made as cheap and eco-friendly as manuals anyway?

She came to love her car and when she was in San Francisco she had wished she had brought it with her after her first week and second encounter with the hills that lived up to their reputation. And for the first time in years she was glad she didn't drive a standard. It had been a long time since she had thought about the differences in transmissions. It had been years since she had thought of anything else than her own tiny, worn down, automatic engine. The concerns of the present had pushed aside the memories of the past.

At least until the present changed and she had let Darcy drive her home after work. Then it was all she could think about as soon as she slid in the passenger's seat. He drove a manual.

At first she tried to fight the smile that played at her lips as she watched him drive her home with more interest than she normally would have given him. She figured that here she could learn a lot about him. Her father had always said that driving was where a person's true character showed through.

There was certainty behind his movements, knowing when to shift by sound and feel instead of looking at the gauge. His car, a european hybred, was an extension of his body, of his will. They were dancing and working together in a common cause, fighting against the traffic and hills that stood in their way.

She studied him, the ways that he changed behind the wheel, shedding his uncertainty and discomfort of their first meetings, and relaxing into the drivers seat as she had only really seen him in meetings. Here, he was home. He took with stride the changes in traffic, not losing his temper but also not shying away from making his way along the rush-hour ladened streets.

'Is that why you drive a standard?' She asked, suddenly, blushing when she realized that was the first thing she had said after near ten minutes looking at him, ten minutes of him being aware that she was looking at him. She cleared her throat, 'because of the control?'

He allowed himself to smile even as his body grew tenser, 'Manual transmissions are better on the environment.' He told her before pausing, his grip on the wheel tightening and loosening, as he changed lanes.

"This is a hybred." She pointed out, her tone accusing him of not telling her the truth. "Care to try again?"

'It's what my father taught me to drive in. I guess it is a way to feel closer to him. That probably sounds silly...'

'No. Actually, I understand perfectly,' her smile grew as she told him about tchildhood rips with her father pretending to drive, and his later unsuccessful attempt to teach her how to really drive - memories that she had never thought to share with anyone before. Maybe it was because they were currently in a car so like the one of her youth despite it's differences, or because it was something that they shared, but telling him now seemed right.

In return he told her how he had tried to teach his sister to master the manual transmission to the same results that Lizzie had found.

She asked him why their father hadn't tried to teach her before she realized that by the time Gigi was 16 there was only the siblings left.

A heavy silence fell between them that was only broken by the sound of the engine working with its master to climb yet another hill.

'Maybe she wasn't ready then, to learn.' She ventured in a slow, deliberate tone, hoping that they were by now good enough at reading each other for him to pick up on the apology and peace offering in her tone. 'One has to be ready. After all, learning to drive stick is like learning to love. You can only do it when you're ready to be patient and ready to fight that next hill.'

'And are you ready?' He asked looking at her in the way that was teaching her stomach to flutter.

'I don't know. I'd like to think I'm ready for anything.'

'Good.' That was the last thing he said on the matter before they broke out into small talk, talking about weekend plans, or lack thereof. She caught sight of his smile when she told him that she was spending sunday doing nothing.

So she supposed that it was her fault, for not figuring it out sooner. She should have learned by now that that smile on a Darcy meant that they were up to something. So really, she shouldn't have been surprised when he showed up at her place Sunday morning, coffee in hand, offering to show her how to drive.

She smiled at him, a promise of smiles to come when he held open the drivers side door to his car for her. And as she adjusted the seat into place she didn't think of the possible risk to the overpriced car or wonder about his insurance premimums if she backed into something when she should be going forward, but only of his reserved laugh when she questioned his music selection. His tone was gentle and patient when he explained the gears, his hand covering hers as he showed her where all the different speeds were on the gear shift and she knew, even as she stalled before moving ten feet that she would have new memories to cherish of learning to drive.


End file.
